


Heart of Silver, Heart of Steel

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anarchist Harry, But Don't Get Attached To Cedric, Death Eaters, Deception, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Minor Harry/Cedric, Oral Sex, Professor Tom Riddle, Secret Identity, Student Harry Potter, Teacher-Student Relationship, wink wink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: Harry is a first year student at Oxford Institute of Magic, and is instantly drawn to the charming but mysterious Professor Tom Riddle, teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Tom is as equally entranced by Harry. Harry joins a social activist group, who are fighting against the Ministry and the newly formed terrorist group Death Eaters, while Tom hides a dark secret and tries to draw Harry into his own world





	Heart of Silver, Heart of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Tomarry Big Bang on tumblr. I need to get back to writing my multi-chaptered Tomarry fics so I took this as a little exercise to write a shorter chaptered-fic (I'm hoping to update this once a week) and then I'll go back to my other WIPs :)
> 
> So if you're following my other fics, you don't have to wait much longer, and if you're not following my other fics, why don't you check them out? ;D 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like the start of this, and please let me know what you think :D

Oxford Institute of Magic was one of the finest magical universities in the world. Hidden in secret corners of the Oxford streets, not too far from the Muggle university, the school offered many classes for students to take, including specialised options to take in third year focused for a specific career choice.

Defensive Magic was only the third class Harry had taken on his first day as an O.I.M student, but it was by far the busiest class. That most likely had to do with the fact that it was taught by Professor Tom Riddle.

Tom Riddle was rumoured to be one of the most intelligent and powerful professors at the university, and was so respected in Wizarding Britain that a recommendation from him pretty much guaranteed securing a job—not that his recommendations were given out lightly.

Standing at the front of the lecture hall, leaning elegantly against his desk, Tom oozed power and charisma, and demanded attention. And in Harry’s mind, though he was certain most people would agree with him, Tom was incredibly attractive. 

Looking to be no older than his late thirties or early forties, Tom suited his age. He was classically handsome, with a strong jaw, straight nose, and sharp cheekbones. His hair was dark and was styled so not a single strand of hair was out of place. Black slacks clung to his slender hips, and his black shirt had its sleeves rolled to the elbows. 

“Welcome to Defensive Magic, the advanced class,” Tom said once everyone was seated. The room was packed, but his voice carried through the room easily. “My name is Professor Tom Riddle, and I am here to help those who want to pass this class. If you have no intention of taking this seriously, I ask that you leave now.”

Nobody moved, just glancing at one another with their eyes as if daring somebody to stand. When nobody did, Tom gave the class a dazzling smile; Harry swore the girl sat in front of him swooned.

“I hope that none of you disappoint me,” Tom smiled. “Can I ask for two volunteers? Perhaps you two, in the front row?”

Two women stood and followed Tom, exchanging eager glances as they stood at the front of the lecture hall.

“You,” Tom told the brunette, “I want you to draw your wand and get into a defensive position. And you-” he turned to a woman wearing a turquoise headscarf, “-I want you to do exactly as I instruct.”

Tom leant in to whisper his instructions in the woman’s ear, and when Tom stepped back she had a determined look on her face.

“Defend yourself as best as you can,” Tom told the other woman. “When you’re ready.”

Whatever spell was cast was nonverbal, and it sliced right through the shield that the brunette had flung up, knocking her to the floor.

“Thank you, ladies,” Tom said, clapping his hands together and giving the women a smile. “You may return to your seats. But do the rest of you see? A shield is an effective defensive strategy, but it doesn’t work for every spell. When you are attacked nonverbally you lose the ability to confidently defend yourself because you don’t know what you’re up against. And what if someone casts a spell verbally, yet you’ve never heard of it? How many of you have heard of the spell _Iugulatum_ or _Semperumbra_?”

Nobody raised their hand.

“That is why this class will require research into the Dark Arts.”

There was quite a lot of muttering at that announcement, and Harry shared a look with his classmates who looked both intrigued and nervous.

“Quiet, please,” Tom ordered, and the class fell silent at his request. “Those two spells I just spoke of are Dark magic, and as none of you knew what they were you would also have no idea how to defend yourself from them. As our volunteers demonstrated, you cannot defend yourself if you don’t know what you’re defending yourself from. As per O.I.M’s policy, no practical use of Dark magic will be allowed. However, it is of my opinion you need a theoretical understanding to really excel at this class. If you have a problem with this then I suggest taking the beginner’s defensive magic course instead.”

Tom laughed then, the sound piercing the heavy silence that had fallen over the classroom. “You mustn't look so serious. All I want for you is for you to get the qualifications you want and need; I will push you to be the best you can be, and it will be hard work but you’ll thank me for it later.”

Tom’s eyes travelled across the expanse of the lecture hall, and seemed to pause on Harry’s face for a moment longer than anyone else’s. Harry felt his cheeks flush at that, especially when Tom caught his eye again and smiled a smile that seemed to be only for Harry. 

The rest of the class was just about the university policies which every lecturer had to give on their first class, but Tom somehow made the students pay attention to information that they’d all heard at least once before. He just had a way of capturing attention that was really rather fascinating. 

At the end of the class Tom asked the class to come and collect the reading list from the front desk, and he seemed to be appraising each student as they approached him.

Tom had been silent for a while, so when he said, “what’s your name?” when Harry approached the desk, he almost tripped into the desk in surprise.

“Er, Harry. Harry Potter,” he answered, noticing up close that Tom’s eyes were an unusual shade of dark grey. 

“I have a feeling about you, Harry,” Tom said, giving Harry an intense look up and down. “Let’s see if you prove me right.” 

***

Harry knocked back the shot in one go, and slammed his glass down on the surface of the bar. He licked his lips, the taste of fruit and sugar masking the tang of alcohol. Ron, Harry's roommate, grinned at him, his red hair clashing with the vibrant blue lights which shined down on them. 

"That Hermione girl is over there," Ron said, jerking his head towards the opposite side of the room. "Reckon I can get her to agree to a date with me?"

Harry snorted and shook his head. "No way! I barely know her, but what I _do_ know is that she's a workaholic and she isn't going to let your pasty arse distract her from her studies."

Ron didn't seem deterred, his grin growing. "You underestimate my charm, mate. Wish me luck."

Harry's gaze followed Ron as he made his way across the bar and attempted to strike up a conversation with Hermione. To Harry's surprise, Hermione seemed pleased to be able to get away from her previous companion, a petite blonde girl who was wearing odd socks in bright colours. 

He shook his head, turning away from his friend to survey the crowd. He finally found someone who caught his attention; a tall guy with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a small that could light up the room. Harry managed to catch the bloke's gaze, biting down on his lip as he beckoned him over with a finger. 

The guy came over to Harry without hesitation, and as he came closer Harry was able to appreciate just how tall and broad the man was. Harry liked men of all sizes, but he certainly had a soft spot for tall men who could wrap Harry in their arms and make him feel safe. 

"Hi," Harry smiled. "I'm Harry."

"Cedric," came the reply. "It's lovely to meet you, Harry. May I buy you a drink?"

"Only if you keep me company while I drink it." He ran his hand up Cedric's arm, squeezing lightly around the firm biceps. "I've not seen you around campus, which is strange because I think I'd have noticed someone as gorgeous as you."

Cedric grinned. "You're bold; I like it. And to answer your question, I'm in my final year here so I spend most of my time at the library. I like to have a little fun every so often, though. I don't want to work too hard, after all."

He shifted his stool closer to Harry, his firm, thick thigh pressing against Harry's slender one. 

"Oh?" Harry purred. "And how do you like to have fun?"

"Usually with pretty boys like you." Cedric reached for a napkin and scrawled an address on it, before handing it to Harry. "My Floo address. Call me sometime, maybe?"

Harry grinned as he watched Cedric depart, and his good mood didn't even waver as Ron returned looking far less pleased with his progress. 

"That Hermione is a tough nut to crack," Ron grumbled. "Why do you look so happy?"

Harry waved the napkin in Ron's face. "A cute boy gave me his Floo address."

"Huh," Ron huffed. "Do you think I'd have better luck if I was into blokes? You're bi; would you go for me if I wasn't straight?"

"I like my women with red hair, but my men with dark hair; sorry mate." Harry grinned. "But it doesn't matter if Hermione's not into you; there's that girl, Lavender, in Charms who keeps eyeing you up. She's pretty."

Ron shrugged. "I guess. Do you wanna head back now? We've got McGonagall in the morning, and my brothers said she loves to pop quizzes on her students in the mornings."

Harry could easily believe that of the stern woman, and hooked his arm with Ron's as they headed out of the bar. They stepped outside, the air cool and refreshing with just a bite of chill as Autumn loomed. They'd barely taken a few steps when a tall, cloaked figured bumped roughly into Ron, causing all of them to stumble slightly. 

"Watch it!" The stranger hissed. "Filthy blood traitor."

"Hey-!" Ron began to growl, but Harry roughly pulled him away. 

"Leave it. We don't want to get into a fight with arseholes like that; who knows what spells they're itching to try."

They both turned to glare as the man and his friends went into the bar, and Harry was pleased they'd already chosen to leave. He could be quite outspoken when he wanted to be, and it wouldn't be good to get into a fight just yet.  

***

Harry made it about a month into the term before he finally pissed off a professor. He'd been homeschooled mainly by his parents and their friends, all of whom were outspoken and encouraged it in Harry--until he'd been accepted into O.I.M and those same people told him he needed to watch what he said in front of his teachers and fellow students. 

And technically Harry hadn't disobeyed what they'd said; he'd just _written_ his opinion down. It was for an essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts, which had been returned with no grade, just a big, circled scrawl written in red ink which read ' _See me after class_.'

Ron hissed in sympathy when he saw it, and they both glanced at Professor Riddle who was talking animatedly about the spells used to create Inferi. Tom was charming and intelligent, and his students still hung off his every word like they did at the beginning of term. Harry suspected Tom was an arsehole deep down, because nobody could be so charming without having at least a touch of manipulation in them, but Harry could let that slide because Tom was just so god-damn attractive. Harry hadn't fallen for the whole 'tall, dark and handsome' thing until he saw Tom Riddle, who looked so good there had to be some kind of magic involved. 

Harry had wondered that out-loud with Cedric once, until he realised what he was doing and instantly clammed up. Cedric had seen the funny side, though, and joined in with the discussion. Cedric was good like that, kind and gentle, and Harry felt bad sometimes that Cedric didn't get his heart racing like Tom did when he demonstrated spells in front of the class. 

He trudged down the steps after the lesson ended and everyone had left. Tom was tidying up his desk with nothing but an elegant wave of his hand. It wouldn't have been a spectacular show of magic with a wand, but wandless magic was only possible with witches and wizards who were immensely powerful and talented. 

Tom glanced up as Harry approached, the dark brown of his eyes looking almost red for a moment. Harry figured it was a trick of the light. Up close, Harry realised he had underestimated how Tom was; Harry wasn't short by any means, but Tom had to have six or seven inches on him. 

"I'm sure you know why I've asked to see you," Tom stated, his voice crisp and smooth. "Would you agree with that assessment?"

Harry shrugged. "You mean because my essay didn't comply with your bullshit teachings? Yes, I know why you called me down here."

Tom's lip curled, surprising Harry who'd expected anger. 

"I must admit, this is the first time I've asked for an essay on ways to identify and exterminate werewolves, only to receive an argument about how werewolves require nothing less than equal rights, and the right to life."

"So? I wasn't wrong." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to stand by while you advocate for the killing of innocent beings, just because you've been brainwashed by the Ministry and their scapegoating of anyone who isn't one hundred per cent human."

Tom's amusement only grew. "You don't need to repeat your argument to me; I read your essay, after all. And the thing is, Harry, I quite agree with your assessment."

"What?" Harry blinked, annoyance turning to confusion. "But why would you-?"

"The Educational Board requires us professors to teach particular points. We choose how to deliver the material, but we have little say over it. The only reason I'm permitted to teach Dark magic theory is because I had to present my reasoning to the Board." Tom gave Harry a slow look up and down, and licked his lips hungrily. "You're quite the opinionated young man, Harry."

"I'm not opinionated," Harry huffed. "If something's wrong I'm going to speak out against it; I don't care what the Ministry thinks."

Tom smiled, flashing rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. "Such boldness! You have a lot of passion in you, Harry. I myself am not the biggest supporter of the Ministry of Magic; I consider them quite archaic in a lot of ways. I would like if you could meet me over dinner one night so I can discuss a proposition with you; consider it an opportunity, if you will."

Harry frowned. Despite Tom's words, something seemed a bit _off_ , though Harry couldn't quite place what it was. It was perhaps that Tom was almost _too_  charming, like he was reading Harry's mind to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

"That's not really my scene, sorry," Harry said. "I'm just here to focus on my studies."

He jumped when Tom's hand slammed down on the desk. Though his body was tense, Tom's smile stayed unnaturally in place. "You misunderstand me, Harry, I'm not offering you a choice. This will be a good opportunity for you, and if you choose not to at least listen to my offer then you're clearly not as clever as I assumed, in which case I'll have no choice but to deem you as unsuitable for my class."

"You can't do that!" Harry protested. "I need to take this class!"

"I can do whatever I like, darling," Tom said coldly. He handed Harry a piece of parchment with a time and place scrawled on top with neat handwriting. "I'm sure you'll make the smart choice in the end."

***

Harry moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Cedric's broad shoulders. Cedric smiled against Harry's mouth, pressing his body down firmly as he ground against Harry. 

Cedric's hands reached for Harry's jeans, and just as they inched underneath the fabric there was a knock at the door. Cedric's hand was gone from Harry's body in a flash as though he'd been burned, and he sat up away from Harry just as fast. 

"One minute!" Cedric called to the door, giving Harry an apologetic shrug. "I'm just-"

"Trying to shag your boyfriend?" the voice from the other side of the door cut in. Harry recognised the voice as belonging to Cho, Cedric's best friend and housemate. "Have you forgotten out previous appointment? I hope you're both decent because I'm coming in."

Harry straightened his clothes, and a ran a hand through his hair hopelessly--in all his life, it had never looked anything other than dishevelled and messy. Cho grinned at him.

"Sorry to interrupt your fun. Cedric, we're going to be late if we don't hurry up, and I know how much you hate being late."

"Damn!" Cedric swore. "Harry, I'm so sorry; I completely forgot I had a previous appointment. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Harry shook his head. "It's fine, these things happen. Where are you going?"

Cedric and Cho shared a glance. Cho shook her head slightly, but Cedric held his gaze strong. 

"Harry's cool," he said. "I think he'd be interested in joining, in fact."

"If you're sure," Cho frowned. 

Harry tilted his head as he studied them both, feeling completely clueless as to what they were on about. "What?"

"We're part of an activist group, fighting for the rights of Muggle and Muggle-borns, magical creatures, Squibs...basically anyone who is unfairly oppressed in our society," Cedric explained. "And especially with all these recent attacks by Dark wizards...it's about time people stand up for what's right. We don't like to advertise what we are because there are powerful people in the Ministry who want to shut us down. You can come with us, if you want."

Harry grinned. Writing essays and debating with bigots was one thing, but it didn't create any changes, whereas joining a group of like-minded activists meant he would be able to make a real difference. 

"I've love to join! Count me in!"

***

Professor Riddle looked incredibly out of place in the main restaurant belonging to O.I.M. In his crisp, pressed suit, and finely cut robes, Tom stood out a mile from the students who donned mostly Muggle wear, and drank beer in large, rowdy groups. From the stiffness of his body, Harry imagined that Tom would rather be anywhere else. 

In truth, Harry would also rather be somewhere else. While he was perfectly comfortable in student eateries, sitting with Tom made him feel just as much of an outsider. Tom had selected the restaurant, strangely, and had made little effort to make conversation at they ate, and had made little effort to make conversation at they ate.

Harry wasn't particularly talkative himself, especially not with people he hardly knew, and spent most of the time appreciating the sharp lines of Tom's face. The man was peculiar, but damn, was he handsome. 

"So," Tom said firmly, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "As I told you the other day, I have a proposition for you, Harry, and I would very much like for you to consider it."

"And I told you _then_ that I wasn't interested, and my answer hasn't changed." Harry tapped the edge of the table idly with his spoon, and he withheld a grin as Tom's eyebrows twitched in annoyance. "Let me guess; it's some kind of elite club or fraternity, usually open to pretty, rich, pure-blood men like you?"

Tom's lips curled in amusement, and Harry blushed instantly as he realised his slip-up. 

"I'm glad you find my appearance pleasing, Harry," Tom purred. "But as it so happens, while I _am_ an attractive man, I am neither rich nor a pure-blood. You mustn't write everyone off as an enemy until prove otherwise, darling; you're likely to miss out on opportunities that way."

Harry's blush deepened, Tom's use of the pet name sending a pleasant tingle down Harry's spine. 

"Don't call me darling. I'm not your dainty little plaything."

Tom waved a dismissive hand. "I mean no offence by it, and have no intention of stopping simply because you can't accept an compliment. I don't think you're aware of your own worth, Harry. No doubt because you clearly dislike authority and live always on the defensive, so nobody has ever given you a chance to show what you really are...but I want to give you that chance."

Harry's stomach flipped over inside him as Tom's intense grey gaze seemed to swallow him whole. Tom's words almost seemed too good to be true, which was what made Harry sure they were. 

"So your opportunity isn't a club?"

"Oh, it is, but not in the traditional sense," Tom said. "It's a very exclusive collective of powerful witches and wizards who come under the name, _The Knights of Walpurgis_. Together we study magic not typically taught to students, even at university level, and we have insight and say into the workings of the Ministry of Magic itself."

"And you thought I'd be interested in that?!" Harry cried, getting to his feet. "You know full well I _despise_ the Ministry, and why would I ever want to join your snobby circle of _elite_ people? God, do you hear how pretentious that sounds? So sorry, Professor Riddle, but I'll have to decline your _opportunity_." Tom's eyes glittered dangerously, and Harry lowered his voice, aware he'd caught the attention of several other diners. "Seriously, you'd have better luck if your opportunity was having sex with you in your office."

Tom smirked darkly. "So if I offered to fuck you in my office now, you'd say..."

"No!" Harry folded his arms over his chest and tried to glare Tom down, only for the bastard to look amused. "And I would have probably said yes if you didn't prove yourself to be an arsehole! Plus I have a boyfriend, but, uh, mainly the arsehole thing!"

Tom stood too, crossing over to the other side of the table to stand beside Harry. Harry suddenly felt very small in contrast to Tom's height, and part of him yearned to fall into Tom's strong looking arms--the other part of him yearned to throw a glass of water in the man's face.

"I suppose I'll be seeing you in class," Tom said curtly as he snapped his fingers at a waiter for the bill. "I hope you and your boyfriend enjoy the rest of the night together, _darling_."

***

Harry scribbled idly in the column of his parchment. He knew he should have been taking notes, but he couldn't take his eyes off Professor Riddle. 

Tom's was the only class that all the students sat listening attentively, and still had as many people there as on the first day of class. While the man was a prick, Tom was an excellent public speaker, Harry would grant him that. He just had a way of drawing everyone's attention to him, shining in a room full of people without even tyring.

Harry was drawn out of his reverie when he realised that Tom's gaze had landed firmly on him. He glanced at Ron in confusion, who subtly jerked his head towards the front of the lecture hall. 

"Terribly sorry to interrupt your daydreaming, Harry," Tom said loudly, resulting in several student's snickering. "But I asked you if you would care to join me up here for a demonstration."

Harry could hear the smugness in Tom's voice; it was infuriating. 

"I wouldn't care to, actually," Harry said, frowning when Tom didn't appear to look deterred.

"I'm afraid there's no choice unless you have an injury, and unless I'm suddenly experiencing poor sight, you look completely fine to me." More people sniggered at Tom's response. "Now please come and join me up here, Harry; it's a course requirement that you can prove your abilities in defensive magic through practical demonstrations."

Harry scowled, getting to his feet and accidentally kicking the ankles of the bloke sat next to him as he roughly barged through the students sitting in his row. 

Tom smiled brightly as Harry stepped up beside him, flashing perfectly white teeth which looked a touch more sharp than they ought to be. 

"I have the impression your focus has been otherwhere during my lecture," Tom said. "Would you care to prove me wrong, or shall I remind you?"

Harry stayed sullenly silent. 

"I was discussing how the proper stance is just as important when it comes to duelling as it is to know the spells themselves," Tom continued. "To demonstrate, please will you stand opposite from me and throw up a simple defensive shield when I cast my hex?"

Harry rolled his eyes but did as he was told; his magical strengths lay in defensive magic, and he wasn't going to let Tom show him up--

Until Tom's hex hit his shield, and blasted Harry backwards until he was sprawled on his back on the floor. 

"See," Tom announced, looking down at Harry with a smug smile. "This could have been avoided. Harry?"

Tom offered his hand downwards, and Harry reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled up. Tom's skin was warm and his fingers were strong, curling around Harry's wrist tightly. Harry tried to pull away from the grasp once he was back on his feet, but Tom kept his hold for just a second--just enough to show who was more powerful. 

"Though Harry's shield was strong, the mere force of the magic I used was enough to knock him off his feet. In a real duel, that would be enough for your opponent to take advantage and easily win. However, with the proper stance you can learn to stay on your feet and not land in such a vulnerable position," Tom announced to the class. 

He gestured for Harry to come over to him, standing so that he was right behind Harry. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, Tom's strong fingers curling around it. To the class it would have looked supportive, but Harry knew it was just enough show of power; it was, admittedly, quite interesting to see the real Tom beneath the charming facade he hid behind as a professor. 

"Keep your feet shoulder-width apart and square your shoulders," Tom told him, too close to his ear. Harry barely withheld a shoulder, so focused on doing so that he nearly jumped when Tom's hands grasped his hips. 

"You need to be at a slight angle," Tom said, twisting Harry just-so. His fingers slid under Harry's shirt at the back, impossible for the class to see.

Harry took a sharp intake of breath, trying to pretend that Tom's fingers didn't feel good on his bare skin. It was harder to pretend when Tom began to massage gentle circles into Harry's skin. He couldn't understand why he was letting this happen; why wasn't he calling Tom out, or moving away from him? Why was he _enjoying_ it?

"There," Tom said, quietly as if it was only for Harry to hear. "Perfect."

Tom didn't knock Harry off his feet the next time he tried to hex him, and Harry had to admit that though Tom was a snob and a bit of a pervert, he was also a very good teacher. 

After class had finished, Harry found Cedric waiting for him outside the class, leaning against the wall and ignoring the many hopeful looks thrown his way. Cedric was gorgeous, and kind, and he was also a little bit boring, Harry had to admit to himself. 

"Hi," Cedric greeted, pulling Harry in for a gentle kiss. "Good class?"

Harry didn't get chance to answer. 

"Very good," Tom said for him. "Harry actually has aptitude for my class, unlike you, Diggory, who never had the stomach for it. Good day, Harry."

Harry grinned inwardly; it seemed like somebody was jealous. 

***

Harry threw his head back, groaning in pleasure as Cedric thrust into him. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining it was Tom's hands grasping his hips; Tom's cock moving _inside_  him...

"Harder!" Harry urged. "Please, Cedric."

Cedric smoothed a hand over Harry's sweaty forehead. "I don't want to hurt you. I want this to be good for you, baby."

Harry much preferred it when Tom called him 'darling'; being called 'baby' didn't have quite the same charm to it. Tom would call him all the right pet names, and fuck him hard, just the way that Harry liked it. 

God, what was wrong with him? Comparing his boyfriend to another man, mid-fuck, no less. More importantly, comparing him to an absolute bastard of a man. A bastard of a man who would no doubt be brilliant in bed, admittedly, and not so _boring_.

Because that's what Cedric was; lovely, and kind, and gentle, and dreadfully _boring_.

Harry had to bite down on his lip when he came, lest he called out a name that wasn't Cedric's.


End file.
